a whole kitchenette of cigarettes

this is a division,
the soap said to the sink
in white foam
and soft, swirling sentences.
i'm in love with an idea,
but i never loved it more than you,
the soap cooed
like a baby summer lamb sunshine warm blankets.
one day, we'll return to this place
and we'll think about how changed we are,
what it took to get here.
the poor sink,
as cold as he could be he
couldn't ignore the song.
it was a sweet drip-drip,
the fleeting cling and no one ever spread over
his huge humps like that.
it rings in the mouth like metal,
hits the really wrong taste buds
but never, never
did they use their own strength to
clean it.

did you ever ask yourself?

i love sandwiches, water glasses.
i thought about coming home all night
and got mad when you asked the question right out.
i want to be free to do what i choose,
but i want it all to happen naturally.
i'd like to lick the inside of a soup bowl,
cover my hands in quarters,
eat a magnet that looks like bananas
and never tell anyone my funny story.
i, like you, know exactly what happened.

The Gig is Up

I miss home right now but I'm not feeling too sad today. We're still looking for apartments. It's easy to get homesick when everything takes so fucking long.
Ryan is watching a table tennis tournament and is really intrigued by the way one competitor spits on the end of her table. Maybe she's marking her territory or giving the corners more grip or something. Then Deb asked why the Chinese always dominate this sport and that made me mad because I'm generally mad at her right now. She woke me up this morning just to be mean.
Ryan used to tell me about playing table tennis with his grandpa and the memories sounded really funny and feeling-filled. I was too awkward to play table tennis when I was little. My arms were too long for my body and I had trouble controlling them.
I miss my friends. I miss my town. But I like Cologne. I just don't like being here right now.